World Series Kinda Stuff
by Chloe Chamberleign
Summary: When Stephanie meets Benny Rodriguez, she's thrilled to have finally found a friend. Benny is amazing at baseball. Period. Stephanie notices that Benny would much rather spend more time on the sandlot than do anything else. But she begins to realize that maybe a love for baseball isn't the only thing that keeps him from leaving the sandlot most of the day.
1. Chapter 1

On a baseball diamond, the batter's worst enemy is the pitcher. The pitcher, having total command over his field, tries to strike the batter out with the maximum of three pitches. Three pitches can determine or change either opponents' next move. In the major leagues, reputations are strengthened and heroes are born with three pitches. The pitcher has one goal in mind: to strike the batter out. The batter, having the contrary goal, wishes to smash the ball five blocks and score a run. But if the batter strikes out, it's not personal, it's national. You train to hit home runs, you hit home runs hard. First base, second base, third base; they're all small steps to greatness. Inning after inning, the bases are tagged, the bats are swung, and the plays are performed. And life seems almost easy, until that one moment. That one moment that determines life or death. Win or lose. Fame or failure. It's the bottom of the ninth, the bases are loaded, and up to bat is the best home run breaker on the team. The pitcher, thinking of every trick and skill he knows, has two choices: to walk the batter or risk it and strike him out. The pitcher makes eye contact with the catcher. The catcher quickly signals a number, and the pitcher nods. The pitch is thrown and the batter swings. Strike one. The pitcher winds up and releases. The bat is swung a second time. Strike two. The pitcher wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. The batter takes a few practice swings. This is it. The crowd wait in silence. All those gathered around their tv or radios hold their breath. The pitch is made. The crowd erupts in a cheer. Wether the batter hit the ball or the pitcher struck him out, I will not say. But it's moments like these that can make or break one's future, especially in the major leagues.

But, on a dust covered lot with a nice view of a towering green fence, baseball is still just a game. Converse sneakers tagging dusty bases, old wooden bats slugging cheap baseballs, and Big Chew bubble gum being smacked was all I needed for a game. Winning after a game meant a jump in the neighborhood pool or maybe some ice cream from Mr. Taladorie's down on Higgins Street. I had nine wonderful friends who all shared a special passion for baseball. Each of our team members was special in their own way, we made each other strong. Everyone had something to contribute, wether it be a position to play, a technique, or a catchphrase and what-not. We weren't an actual little league team, not by a long shot. We had nicknames we had given each other. And we weren't the best of baseball players, but we were the best of friends. And my contribution being unique, I was a girl, and at first I had been rejected for it. It all started during the beginning of summer in 1962. And it was during what began as a hopeless summer, that a kid named Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez became a neighborhood legend. It was in the greatest summer of my life when he invited me to play baseball, and he became my best friend. And I helped him out of the biggest trouble he would ever be in.

I moved into the neighborhood about one week before school let out. It was the same summer that Dodger Moray Wills would break the stolen bases record. So with something that incredible going on, it should have been a great time. But it wasn't. I was from another state, Missouri, to be exact, and I didn't have a single friend. It was a terrible way to end the eighth grade, cause I had zero time to make friends before summer vacation began.

And that's pretty much where it all started.

My real mom died when I was three and a half. My dad had married Kacey about five months before we moved to the Valley. During that time, she and I were still getting used to each other. I had a kid sister, Lindsay, who would be starting seventh grade the following school year. She and I looked nothing alike. She had wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I, on the other hand, had auburn long hair and dark eyes. If it weren't for our last names and similar DNA, we wouldn't be considered related. We got along well enough, but we weren't exactly best friends either. From pictures, I found that my mother was blonde also, and resembled an older version of Lindsay. I didn't look like anyone, except my dad.

The summer between eighth grade and high school is the best of times and the worst of times. Barbies, dress up, and cartoons aren't significant anymore, because you're too busy concentrating on zits, clothes, and breath mints. The story of me moving to the Valley with my family is not for those with a weak stomach. There's violence, heart ache, cruelty. But I'm gonna tell it, because someone has to finally tell the truth about love. For those of you out there that aren't as experienced as me, let me tell you something about boys. Used to be, popular wisdom was, they gave you cooties. But, all that changed for me when I met a kid named Benjamin Franklin -

"Rodriguez!" A male voice shouted. "See ya tomorrow, eight thirty sharp!" The same voice said. I looked up from the card board moving boxes scattered in my front yard just in time to see a stocky, red haired boy disappear into a yellow house. I straightened, stretching my back and shoulder muscles. I had been bent over all afternoon, hauling boxes out of the moving van, and my muscles felt like they were on fire. I tucked a loose strand of auburn hair behind my ear.

Looking in the direction of where the boy had just left, I saw a taller boy with a tan complection and dark hair walking down the sidewalk. He seemed to be heading in my direction, but had not noticed me. The boy kept his eyes fixated on the glittering cement. As he got closer, I also noticed how muscular he was. A white short sleeve shirt was worn under a faded, thin blue button down, which wasn't buttoned. He wore faded blue jeans and black converse sneakers. A blue baseball cap hung low over his eyes.

I shifted my gaze back to the boxes, not wanting to be caught staring. I looked down at my tight white t-shirt, jean shorts, and converse sneakers, kicking myself for not dressing in something less exposing. My long hair was piled in a high ponytail, which dangled down my back through a slit in my red baseball cap. The baseball cap had the St. Louis Cardinals logo on it. Makeup really wasn't my thing, so I wasn't wearing any.

I weighed my options, figured I had no odds, and returned to moving the boxes. I dropped one loudly by accident. Luckily nothing spilled out, it was just heavy.

It was then that the boy paused and looked up. His eyes were a dark brown, and I found myself staring into them. I quickly turned my gaze to the box. I felt him staring at me, so I slowly looked up. We locked eyes for a moment, then he slowly began walking again. My heart sank, so much for making a new friend. Then I realized he was walking up my driveway, over towards me. _Oh, God, oh God, oh God._ I thought. _Come on, lady, don'__t screw this up._

He then stood two feet away from me and raised the brim of his baseball cap. And that's when it comes. The one great moment in your life containing all your promising destinies. And you've got two options: begin the climb towards popularity, or mentally kick yourself forever.

"Just move in?" he asked, gesturing towards the boxes. His voice resembled something of a Los Angeles accent and a Hispanic one.

I nodded and sighed. "Yeah, just yesterday."

He gave me a half smile and held out his hand, spitting in it. "I'm Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez. You can call me Benny."

I duplicated the gesture. "Stephanie Elizabeth Baker. Call me Stephanie." I grinned.

He smiled. "Cool name. Where are ya from?"

I shrugged. "A lot of places. I've moved around a lot. My most recent home was in St. Louis."

He nodded. "That would explain the Cardinal's hat. You miss it?"

I shrugged again. "When you've moved as much as I have, you get used to leaving things behind."

He smiled understandingly. "Well, welcome to California. I live next door, so if you need anything, let me know."

I grinned. "Thanks, Benny."

He nodded. "Don't mention it."

Then the screeching of tires on a car was heard. A station wagon pulled into the house next to mine. The house was a small ranch house with broken shudders. Benny followed my gaze and stared wearily at the car. Loud music was blasting from it. He groaned and pulled the brim of his baseball cap down further over his eyes. Benny turned to me. "I'm sorry, I gotta go. My, uh, mom's home, so...

"You should..."

"Yeah."

I smiled. "Okay, nice meeting ya."

He smiled back. "Yeah, you too. See ya around, Stephanie." He turned and sprinted towards the house the car parked at. He was there in seconds. A woman in a short balck dress and heels came out of the car. I guessed she was his mother, like he said. Upon seeing him, though, she shoved three large suitcases in his arms and sauntered inside the screen door, shutting it in his face. Benny struggled with the suitcases in one arm, and with the other, opened the door.

Once he was gone, I returned to my work. The moment I first had the chance to talk to him was not the one great moment of my life. That moment, for me, would come eighty-seven days later. But I had at least made a friend, as far as I knew. But what I didn't know, was that Benny was hiding a dark, dangerous secret. One that I would find out soon enough.

Later that night, I was sitting in my small new bedroom. Boxes were stacked everywhere, and the old blue wallpaper from the previous owner was peeling off the walls. There was one window in my room. It led out to the side of the house, and since the house was only one story, I could easily climb out. The house next door was relatively close to mine, and too make things even more convenient, the Rodriguezes lived in that house. My hair was wet from the shower I had recently taken, and I sat in my Cleveland Indians over-sized night shirt and shorts. I had lived in five different states, and had switched baseball teams each time. I, myself, had played on five different softball teams, and had become decent enough. I could tag a ball four blocks easily enough, but my strong point was pitching. I could pitch fast balls so quick that if you blink, you'd miss it. Well, more or less so.

Down the hall in the family room, I could here the radio blasting a baseball game where dad was listening to the Dodgers play the Cubs. My step-mom, Kacey, was in the kitchen washing dishes from tonight's dinner of spaghetti. Our small kitchen table was still boxed up, so we sat around several cardboard boxes to eat at. Lindsay was in her room placing her Barbie dolls in various places around her room across from mine. She was much more girlier than I was, and I had tried to teach her the game of baseball, but she hadn't quite followed. I know, I know. It was weird that she still played with Barbies at thirteen, but we all have our fazes.

I lay down in bed, thinking of home. I had left friends behind, but none of them were very close friends. I had not had a best friend before, and had begun to lose hope of ever finding one. I rolled over on my side and stared out my window. Some time in the evening, the comforts of my bed overtook me, and I fell asleep. While I was drifting off, I thought I heard loud voices yelling from outside my room. No, outside my house. I looked out into the hall. All the lights were off, and the radio was also off. My sister was sound asleep in her room, and the snoring coming from my dad's and Kacey's room told me they were also asleep. I shrugged and figured it was just the neighbors. I wondered if it was Benny's family arguing with each other, but at twelve p.m. at night? Strange.


	2. Chapter 2

I hate starting a new school. Sure, I've gotten used to it, but it still sucks, okay? I was led by the principal down to classroom 114. Mrs. Campbell, the principal, opened the wood door and smiled her mega-watt smile.

"Mrs. Perry," Mrs. Campbell addressed the teacher. "Class, I have a new friend for you to meet. This is Stephanie Baker from St. Louis."

"Stephanie, welcome to Larkens High," Mrs. Perry smiled. As it turns out, she happens to be the dumbest teacher I've ever had.

"I'm going to leave her in your capable hands, Mrs. Perry."

"Perfect," Mrs. Perry replied.

Mrs. Campbell looked down at me. "I'm sure you'll fit right in, Stephanie."

Oh, totally.

But Mrs. Perry wasn't ready to let the torment end. She clapped her loud hands. "Stephanie! You must not have read the dress code book! Silly goose, we do not allow baseball caps in class! Luckily, I won't give you a detention since you are new here-" She turned and called over her shoulder. "Justin! Bring the swear box over here!"

A boy who'd been painting a huge banner at a table slowly picked up a medium-size cardboard box and started toward us.

_No way. _I would have to put my baseball cap in there for the day?

Justin tripped and dropped the box. Nothing was in it, so I'm assuming I'm the only one who broke the rules.

Nice.

I reluctantly placed my hat inside the box. Mrs. Perry turned to me, all the peppy rah-rah gone from her voice. "Where should I put you?" she asked, scanning the room. "Why don't you . . ."

As long as I was far away from Mrs. Perry, I'd be fine.

"...go help Terra. Terra, raise your hand." A girl with honey-blonde hair and a blinding white smile raised her hand. That's Terra?! "Tell her you'd be thrilled to help her."

_Thrilled _was not the word I would have used.

* * *

"It's crooked!" Terra said. Her golden hair was mostly tucked under a ridiculous pink bow. She glared at me with her right eye.

I sighed dramatically. "Terra. I promise. The poster. Is straight."

We'd been at this for what seemed like a year, trying to hang up a GO SHARKS poster for the swim team at school. Terra decided it wasn't good enough. Again.

"It doesn't _look _right," she whined.

"That's because you've been staring at it for so long, it only looks like it's crooked," I said. "Your mind will do that."

She huffed and her rolled her eyes.

Let's clarify something: Terra is a cheerleader. And so she is used to bouncing around in place and holding her arms in the air for years.

I, Stephanie, am not a cheerleader. Actually, I'm sort of an anti-cheerleader. I'd much rather be on the field playing than jumping around to some washed-up pop song.

But I wouldn't say that to Terra. I let go of the poster. "You know what? Forget it," I said. My arms burned from holding the poster up. "This is stupid. I quit."

"We _have _to! Terra said. "And you have to help or else I'm telling Mrs. Perry."

Oh, there was no doubt in my mind that she would. And then I'd get sent to the principal's office the first day I started school. Maybe the most stupid thing was that there was only two weeks before school was out.

I stretched my arms and made sure to roll my eyes in Terra's direction.

"You _loser._" she said.

I was used to that comment.

"You and your loser baseball hat" - used to that comment too- "and your loser family."

_That _one was new.

"Get over yourself," I said. "And leave my family out of this."

Terra stood up and glared at me. "As long as your baby sister and her Barbies stay away from my little sister."

I glared at her in confusion and annoyance.

"She plays with _Barbies_," Terra said.

"Yeah, so?"

"That makes your sister a baby cause she still plays with dolls," Terra said.

"Oh, come on."

"My sister, Cece, is her age. And she told me that she plays with dolls all the time in her room whenever she comes over to her house. Your sister is a freak."

Okay, so I'm not popular at this school and I've become hostile and so far, I don't have any friends. But Terra couldn't talk trash about my sister. Sure, Lindsay is sensitive, but she is not a freak.

I took a step closer to Terra. She flinched but didn't back down.

"Just face it, Stephanie. Lindsay is crazy." She narrowed her eyebrows. "CeCe is never coming over to your house. . ."

Terra kept going on and on, but I tuned her out. I didn't want to fight on my first day. Eventually, Terra grabbed the poster. "Let's just finish this so I can leave you," she said.

"Sounds great," I said.

We put up the poster again.

"Stop - perfect," came a voice behind us. I turned to see who had spoken.

Oh, yay.

Another cheerleader was behind us.

Terra stalked off while I looked around the classroom for a seat that would make me unnoticeable. The other cheerleader was still standing there. She met my gaze and smiled. She stuck out her hand for me to shake. "Hi there, welcome to Larkens High. I'm Wendy Peffercorn." I reluctantly shook her hand and nodded.

"I'm Stephanie Baker,"

She nodded and smiled. Then looked back at the poster. "I'm not sure if I should create a fund-raiser for the Sharks swim team," she said, turning away before I could answer. Her gaze lingered on the poster, and I noticed she was wearing a beret. So she could wear a hat, but I couldn't?

"Mm," I said, and walked away.

I guess, Wendy really is different from the other cheerleaders.

But I still want to hate her.


	3. Chapter 3

I've never had any real best friends before. I mean, there's Lindsay - my thirteen year old sister. She's two years younger than I am. So we should have this special friendship. We used to get along okay, but then she became a seventh grader. I started to feel like her mom than her best friend, protecting her from everything. Since mom died when I was little, I've kind of been Lindsay's security blanket, even though Dad had married Kasey.

There was a time Lindsay and I would hang out. We would goof off and watch old movies together. But my used-to-be funny and cool sister became a stressed-out, uber-sensitive, Barbie-loving mess. Now our relationship is pretty much just "big sister protects little sister."

I had been at Larkens High for a few days and had only made four friends. Not really friends, but at least it was a group I could hang out with and sit with at lunch. Everyone assumes they're creepy and proud of it, so they do their best to show it. Some of them are actually pretty nice, and they could be my friends . . . if they would stop trying to seem so morbid and strange.

I mean, just because you don't want to be a cookie-cutter clone doesn't mean you have to wear a spider-web veil and dress like a vampire meets Macbeth witch wannabe. I, on the other hand, am lazy and don't put much effort in my appearance. I usually just wear jeans and a T-shirt.

After chemistry, I stopped by my locker. Leah Rocklin, who is the ring leader of the vampire meets Macbeth wannabes, wandered up and leaned against the locker next to mine. She spends a lot of time trying to convince people she's a Wicken. That day, she was wearing a belly-reaveling earth-green shirt, a brown trenchcoat, and jeans. Her firey, curly hair was wild and a necklace in some triangle-circle shape hung around her neck.

Leah can be rude and annoying and obnoxious, and to be honest, there are other kids in this school I'd rather hang out with. But somehow, she knows where to find me. And because of her attitude problems, people tend to do what she says.

Leah and I have been hanging out, mainly because she's the only person who talks to me. She's not like a best friend, but I'm getting used to her being around me so much.

"Terra's being a bitch," I said. Leah was silent. I thought she was going to say something nice and reassuring.

"Mm," she said in response. Okay. As I drew in a breath to further explain, Leah raised her eyebrows. "Julia Forests died her hair blonde. And you can totally tell. She thinks she's so cool...what a brat."

"Wait, didn't you die your hair red?" I asked.

Leah shrugged. "It's not the same thing."

"Sure," I said. "If you say so."

Now, if somebody said that to me, I would've argued and fought back. But Leah just rolled her eyes and slung an arm around me.

We started walking toward Algebra 2 homeroom together. As we passed a group of pommies (different from cheerleaders), Leah stuck her tongue out at them, flashing her tongue piercing.

They gasped and rolled their eyes. "Real mature," one girl said.

As we kept walking, the hallways grew emptier. I spotted Wendy Peffercorn leaning against her locker and talking to a girl who was bawling her eyes out. The girl was Amelia Harper. I had English with her. She was nice.

I tried dragging Leah down the hall, but Leah turned to Amelia.

"Hey, Amelia!" she called, like they were best friends.

"Leah," I warned her quietly. Wendy and Amelia looked at us.

"I heard about your breakup with Zack Phillips," Leah said sweetly. "Guess he was just too popular for you, huh?"

Amelia's face froze for a moment, and then she was back to crying. I grabbed Leah's hand and dragged her down the hallway.

As if on cue, Phillips himself came swaggering down the hallway with his entourage of boys who laughed at any joke he told. He was only popular because his dad coached the best baseball team in the school, and they were undefeated. And his mother used to be a co-host for the news.

"Hi, Phillips!" Leah cooed, and he gave her a half-smile. She giggled, and I could see Wendy glaring.

"Geez, Leah, you're so annoying!" I hissed.

Leah laughed her I-don't-care laugh. "I know, right?"

"You didn't have to do that to Amelia," Amelia was a super-sweet girl who would give you her umbrella if it rained. I don't know how she ever dated Phillips.

"She had it coming," Leah said nonchalantly. "She being all buddy-buddy with Peffercorn."

I glanced back at Amelia and Wendy, but averted my gaze to rest on Phillips. He stood motionless and stared at the crying Amelia. "Why the hell is she crying? I'm glad I broke up with such a weak-willed chick."

Wendy glared at him. "Phillips, get your head out of your ass, it's not a hat!" she said coldly to him. The cheerleaders giggled at her remark. Phillips just rolled his eyes and stormed off with his crew.

I happen to know that Leah used to be a girly-girl cheerleader, and then BOOM. Princess of doom poster child.

That's what I hate about high school. Everyone wants to be someone they're not. Sometimes, I don't even know who _I _am.

I don't fit in with anyone.

Leah was telling me some story that happened in art class when a baseball flew out of nowhere and hit me on the head. I fell to the ground.

Just like that. I landed on my butt, which is better than landing on my skull. It still sucked. I began to hear voices and colorful cricles danced before my eyes.

Leah crouched to my right, staring at me, and on the left was a teacher trying to take charge, and in front of me was a guy with dark hair and dark brown eyes.

I closed my eyes again, and my head began to pound.

That boy was really cute. His dark hair, his big, worried eyes.

Wait a sec, I know that guy!

The teacher took hold of my hand. "Try to stay awake...you might have a concussion."

Closing my eyes didn't help the pain. So I opened them.

He was still there, looking at me. Not the teacher. I mean _him._

Benny Rodriguez.

"Do you know your name?" the teacher asked.

I felt annoyed. I nodded and began to answer.

"Her name is Stephanie!" Leah cried helpfully. "Oh my God, Stephanie, are you okay?"

I squinted. "I'm fine," Her shouting hurt my head more.

"Stephanie Baker," Benny said.

I stared at him, and after a second he smiled.

"I'm the guilty baseball-thrower," he said. "Very sorry."

He stuck his hand out to help me up, but I didn't make any gesture to accept it. He laughed and pulled it back.

Leah tried to haul me to my feet. The teacher helped her, and Benny hovered behind them.

"Haven't you done enough?" Leah spat at Benny. "Why don't you go back to your little baseball field?"

He ignored her.

"I am _so _sorry," he said, looking into my eyes.

I looked away. I didn't want to fall in love with Benny. I mean, who cares if his eyes were really cute?

I realized I'd been kind of staring at him, but thankfully the bell rang, ending the moment.

"You should go to the nurse's office," the teacher said.

"Can I come too?" Leah asked quickly. "I'm her best friend."

_No you're not,_ I thought.

"She'll be fine," the teacher said.

"I should go with her, Mr. Martin," Benny said. "It's my fault...I won't be gone long."

The teacher shot him a suspicious look, but nodded. "Five minutes, Rodriguez."

Leah shrugged and walked off down the hall to her class.

"I've told you before, Rodriguez, no playing baseball in school." the teacher scolded. "Dentention after school." The teacher ducked into his classroom, and I was left alone with Benny.

"You don't have to help me," I said. "I can get to the nurse's office by myself."

"Nah, I better come with you," he said, leading me down the hall.


	4. Chapter 4

I turned in the direction of the nurses' office. Benny cam shuffling after me.

"Alright, you obviously don't remember me," he said finally.

"Obviously," I returned.

He wanted me to remember. He was dying for me to remember. And I knew it was killing him.

He opened the door of the nurse's office. The nurse was exploring the medicine cabinets and filing some pills on their proper shelves. "One minute," she said, without a glance. Then she turned and disappeared behind a door.

I sat down on a blue painted chair, and Benny sat down next to me.

He leaned over and whispered in a monotone, "Do you know how to whack the flu?"

It took me a second to realize he was reading from one of the posters on the wall. "Nope," I said. "Sorry."

I looked over at the poster next to it. It was a poster for depression. "Do you feel like hurting yourself?" I read aloud from the poster.

He paused and then coughed out a laugh. "Um...only on taco day."

"I didn't know they had taco day here,"

"Lucky you," he said.

An awkward silence swam through the room. The nurse then came out from the room behind the door.

"Benny!" she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah...I just wanted to make sure Miss Baker receives the love and care I know you are so capable of giving," he said.

Oh God. He was totally flirting with her, and she was falling for it.

"You're so thoughtful!" she replied.

He stood. "Maybe not. I threw a baseball at her head."

"Oh, well, it was an accident, I assume," the nurse said softly, writing something down. "What was the name?"

"Baker," Benny said, staring at me.

Pshh, forget this. I've got a voice. I went to the desk, inching closer so Benny had to take a self-conscious step back. I felt a tang of guilt. "Stephanie Baker."

She asked me a few more questions. "I should get to homeroom," Benny said. He smiled at us. "I've done my good deed for the day."

Good deed for the day? Was I just a pawn in a game of high stakes diplomacy to him? A now filled blank on an application? Part two of a Boy Scout badge?

I can't believe I wasted some guilt on him. He just wanted to be a good citizen, get into a good college, become a prestigious fill-in-the-blank job, and then corrupt society.

He glanced at me. "If there's anything I can-"

"No, nothing," I said.

The smile on his face faded.

"Just go." My head pounded, and my mood was faltering. "I'll be fine."

The room was quite yet again. The clock made the only sound.

"You don't wanna get another detention for being late, do you?" I asked casually.

He blushed a little. "Whatever you say," he said, winking. Then he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

I began to walk home from school, when I heard the close, speeding tires of a bike. Someone whistled. I looked around for the whistler on the bike, even though I'd never been whistled at before.

Of course. Benny Rodriguez, in all his All-Star and baseball cap glory, riding an old blue bicycle. He pulled up next to me, and pulled on the brake handles.

I looked over at him under the brim of my returned baseball cap.

"Can I give you a ride home?" he asked. He hopped off the bike. "Hi," he said. "How's your head?"

"I've got a small bump," I admitted. "But the nurse gave me some pills."

"You would think they would let you rest in the nurse's office for a bit after you've been hit with a baseball" -he paused-"by an evil sandlot boy."

I returned the sarcasm. "They think getting concussions builds character."

He nodded. "Glad I didn't knock the sarcasm out of you."

I raised the brim of the cap and cringed when I touched the bump.

"Please let me give you a ride home," he said again. "It's really the least I can do."

"I thought you had detention," I inquired, folding my arms.

He grinned. "I told the teacher my mom's ill and my dad isn't home and she needs me."

"Is that even true?"

His eyes widened. "No-but it got me out of detention. You didn't really think I meant it, did you?"

I didn't answer.

"Trust me," he said raising his eyebrows. "My mom's more than well," he muttered under his breath.

Hmmph. Sandlot boys have a weird sense of humor.

Okay, then. I'll run with that for now.

I sighed and sat on the seat with him and flinched as I realized I had to wrap my arms around his torso. "Whatever you say," I repeated his words from earlier.

"What if your friend sees you?" he asked. "Are you willing to deal with her?"

Leah. "Please. I'm not scared of the Rocky Horror Picture Chick."

"That's a good name for her," Benny said, grinning. "Maybe we can stir up some tension between your friends and mine." He began pedaling. "So you're the house right next to mine, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, the one with the black shutters."

He laughed. "Kinda cool we're neighbors, huh?"

"Yeah, well," I said. "I guess it's kinda cool."

We pulled into the driveway and he stopped the bike. I hopped off the back and stood there for a moment. "If you were a candy what kind would you be?"

"Wait, what?" I asked him.

"It's an icebreaker."

"It's a stupid icebreaker."

He stared at me, thinking. "I'm thinking bubble gum."

"Right," I said. "Bubble gum."

"Are you mad at me for hitting you with the baseball today?"

"Yeah, infuriated." I rolled my eyes.

He faked a tear. "I need to be more careful. Do you-"

"My turn," I said. "Are you really a 'sandlot boy'?"

"Why would that matter?"

I had no idea what a sandlot boy was really, so I thought about it for a second. "I guess not."

"Well, I am. Baseball is my life."

Interesting. Suddenly, the air felt one hundred degrees hotter, and I would have liked to have been anywhere else.

"I gotta go," I said. "Thanks for the lift."

"Don't be mad at me for keeps," he replied. "See you tomorrow?"

"Maybe!" I said, but my lips smiled despite my attitude. I turned away.

I knew he was watching every self-conscious step I took. When I reached the door, I turned back and looked at him. He looked away from my house and at me.

"I know it sucks you have to live next to me," he called, "but I'm glad you do."

Then he got back on his bike and waved and rode off toward his house.

I walked through the screen door feeling tired. I stepped into the hall and sighed. He was glad we were neighbors. Well, maybe I was glad, too. I walked down the hall and into my room. My room is the first door on the left. I flopped down on my bed, my eyes threatening to close from exhaustion.

I needed to stop thinking about Benny Rodriguez.

Part of me wanted to get my homework done, but I was so tired. I gave up and closed my eyes, hoping to take a nap.

I don't know how long I'd been asleep when I heard yelling from next door. I realized my window was open, the one right next to Benny's window. I groaned and got up to close it, but paused when I heard the yelling again.

"Mud all over the floor!" a woman's voice yelled. "I just mopped the kitchen floor, and you decide to not take your shoes off before you come into the house?"

A pause, and then I heard Benny's voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You know what I think? I think you just don't care about anyone but yourself. Now, you are going to take that mop and clean up all the dirt you tracked into the house. You can forget about going out to play baseball today!"

Another pause. I pressed my hands against my head.

"I'm sorry! Please, I'll clean up the mud. Just please let me play baseball."

I couldn't take the noise. I reached up and slammed my window shut.

A minute later, there was a tiny knock at my door. Lindsay cautiously opened my door.

"I didn't know you were home," she said. Her eyes were wide. "Did you hear something outside?"

I traced the outline of the design of my bedspread. "No," I lied.

"Oh, I did," she said.

"Okay," I closed my eyes again. "You can go back to playing with your barbies."

"I wasn't." she insisted.

"Don't lie, Linds, you know your thirteen, right?" I asked.

"I know, Stephanie! You're so mean!" She slammed my door and stomped back to her room.

I tried to go to sleep but I kept feeling a little bad. So I got up and knocked on Lindsay's door.

She opened the door a crack. "I wasn't playing with my barbies!" she said before I could say anything.

She backed away and I followed her into her room.

I hadn't been in her room yet, since we'd just moved in. It was painted a soft pink with flower wallpaper. She had a pink bedspread and white furniture. A butterfly poster was above her bed. Some other posters of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and The Beach Boys were hanging up as well. She has a sign on her door that tells dad and Kasey to stay out of her room. And a separate sign that keeps me out as well. I'm so special.

If I banned anyone from my bedroom, my dad and stepmom would just assume I was running an underground drug dealership, but Lindsay's the well-behaved daughter, so I guess that gives her an excuse.

I stared at the barbies scattered around her rug. I guess that solves that mystery.


	6. Chapter 6

That night, I sat on my bed stressing over a Spanish test for tomorrow. My family was asleep and the whole house was dark. I had lied and said I was all finished with homework so I could eat dinner and then go outside and ride my bike for a while.

Suddenly, I heard a knock. A knock on my window.

I got up from my bed and pulled up the blinds. Benny stood there in the same clothes he wore today. He looked up and smiled sheepishly. Rolling my eyes, I opened up the window and glared over at him. "Can I help you?"

He held up his science textbook and notebook. "Yeah. I need help on a physics problem."

I looked at him like he was kidding. "Benny...it's eleven forty-two p.m. I can't help you right now."

Benny looked at me like I ran over his puppy. "Please? Look, I 'll help quiz you for Spanish."

"How did you know I have Spanish to study?"

He pointed to my bed. "Your Spanish dictionary and binder are on your bed."

I nodded. Was that creepy that he was looking in my room without permission? "Fine, but you gotta be quiet. My family's asleep."

He smiled and climbed through my window. He looked around as if he was lost. I bit my lip.

"You can sit on my bed; I don't mind." I shrugged, gesturing to it.

Benny flopped down on my bed and opened up his science textbook and notebook. "Okay, so, what did you get for number 5?" he asked on the empty problem.

I looked over at it. "One sec," I said, getting up and closing my door. I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my physics math worksheet. "Uh, oh I see where you are. Okay, it says: A train covers 60 miles between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. How fast was it going at 3 p.m.?"

He nodded and get his pencil ready to write my answer down. I sighed at his inconsideration to at least try the problem.

"The speed is traveled distance (60 miles) divided by traveled time (4pm – 2pm = 2hours). You put 60 hours over 20 hours and that equals 30 miles per hour." I watched as he wrote as fast as he could. I waited. "Am I done with _your _homework?"

He nodded. "Yep,"

"Why don't you just ask you parents for help instead of waiting until midnight to ask me?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

Benny pushed himself up on his stomach with his elbows and shrugged. "Oh, uh, they're always really busy with, you know, work and stuff." An awkward silence passed for a quarter of a minute. "So, do you want me to help you with Spanish?"

"No, it's fine. Does anyone know you're here?"

Benny shrugged and shoook his head. "No. If anyone asks, just say I was never here." He studied the walls in my room and my cluttered desk. My room smelled like Dove soap and paint. Moving boxes were everywhere. I had a queen-sized bed in the right corner, and a huge, white-painted bookshelf near my desk, and I'd put up posters everywhere, covering the old, peeling wallpaper.

Benny eyed my posters of different bands and baseball players. "I like your posters," he said. "I love Babe Ruth," he added, gesturing to my poster of The King of Crash.

"Yeah," I said. "My dad's totally obsessed with baseball. He's from New York, but we've moved around a lot."

"Oh. My dad thinks baseball's a waste of time," Benny said. "He's super-strict."

"Yeah?" I sat down on my bed. "What's he like?"

Benny shrugged. "He's cool."

"So what is this sandlot?" I asked.

Benny tapped his pen against his notebook. "It's like a baseball kingdom." He turned to me. "I should, uh, maybe take you there sometime."

_That _sounded like something I'd be interested in doing. "Mm, sounds amazing," I said, organizing my pencil case on my bed. "Like I could play it all day. But my sister thinks it's stupid. She's so annoying. You have any siblings?"

"Nah," Benny replied, looking around my room.

"So you any good at baseball?" I asked. I looked Benny up and down, which I could tell made Benny feel a little weird. "I bet you're really good. You totally have the arms."

"Oh, I don't know." Benny blushed and leaned against my white bed frame.

"You do!" I smiled.

As Benny turned his arm, I saw long, white scars criss crossing his wrist. _Whoa._ I touched them softly and he pulled his wrist away.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head.

"It's okay,"

"You should go," I said, softly.

Benny's face fell. "Why?"

I shuffled off the bed. "If my parents find you in here, they'll flip. Twice. But I'll see you in school tomorrow."

"Cool," Benny said. "Maybe I could show you around?"

I smiled. "Sure,"

Benny grinned and waved good-bye with three fingers. "I can find my way out," He took on more look around my room, then climbed out the window.

I was suddenly glad about living here.


	7. Chapter 7

The next afternoon, I stood in front of my blue metal locker after the final bell of the day had rung. The locker still had my old stickers from yesterday that some pep squad had stuck on my locker-USA Swimming, Justin Beiber for President, and a magnet that said, _SCHOOL SPIRIT. _Zack Phillips hovered next to me for reasons I am not sure of.

"You wanna hit the diner after school?" he asked. His Valley baseball league jacket hung loosely off his lanky, muscular body, and his blonde hair was a little messy.

"Nah, I'm good," I answered. Because I had practice at three-thirty after school, my softball team usually just stayed after school and sent someone off to the Vincent's Drugstore so we could get our hoagie/iced tea/Cheats/Reese's Pieces fix before throwing a billion softballs.

A bunch of boys stopped to slap Phillips hand as they headed toward the parking lot. Wendy Peffercorn, who is in my history class, waved. I waved back before realizing Wendy was looking at Phillips, not me.

After everyone passed, Phillips turned back to me and frowned. "You've got your jacket on. You're not practicing?"

"Um." I shut my locker and gave the combination a spin. "You know that boy who plays on that sandlot team? I'm walking home with him cause we live right next to each other and all."

He smirked. "Well, aren't _you _sweet? Rodriguez could charge girls to walk home with him, but he's letting you do it for free."

"Come on." I smiled uneasily. "It's like a ten minute walk."

Phillips looked at me, vaguely nodding for a little while.

"What? He was trying to be nice since I'm new!"

"That's cool," he said, and smiled. He took his eyes off me to wave at Mason Fisher, the captain of the boys' varsity wrestling team.

Benny appeared a minute after Phillips loped down the side of the stairs out to the student parking lot. He wore a beat up baseball jacket over his Dodgers T-shirt and All-Star sneakers on his feet. His laces were coming untied. "Hey," he said.

"Hey." I tried to sound bright, but I felt uneasy. Maybe I should've just gone to practice with Phillips, since the baseball and softball practices went on at the same time. Was it weird to walk home with Benny and walk right back?

"Ready?" Benny asked.

We walked through the campus, which was basically a bunch of very old brick buildings off a twisty back road in the Valley. There was even a Gothic clock tower that chimed out the hours. Earlier, Benny had shown me all the standard stuff that every high school has. He'd also shown me the cool things about this high school that you usually had to discover on your own, like the dangerous drinking fountain in the math building that sometimes spewed up geyser-style, the secret spot on the hill kids went when they cut gym class (not that either Benny or I ever would), and the school's only vending machine that sold Cream Soda, my favorite. We'd even developed and inside joke about the prim, stick-up-her-butt model on the anti-cutting class posters that hung outside the principal's office. It felt good to have an inside joke again.

Now, as we cut through an unused junkyard to our neighborhood, I took in every detail of Benny's face, from his turned-up nose to his tan skin to the way his collar couldn't settle right around his neck. Our hands kept bumping against each othey when we swung our arms.

"It's so different here," I said, sniffing the air. "It smells like summer!"

Benny took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I pulled at my hair, feeling unsure of what to talk about. I also felt so self-conscious about whatever I said to him, thinking he would think I'm lame.

"Everyone has stuff they're really into," Benny said. "Like this one boy Sean in my physics class. He's trying to form a band, and he asked me to be in it!"

"Really? What do you play?"

"Guitar," Benny said. "My uncle taught me. My cousin's actually a lot better, but whatever."

"Wow," I said. "That's cool."

"Oh I have an idea!" Benny grabbed my arm. I flinched at first but then relaxed. "You should join the band too! How fun would that be? Sean said we'd practice three days a week after school. He plays bass." He was being sarcastic, I could tell by his expression.

"But all I play is the piano," I said, realizing I sounded like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh.

"The piano would be awesome!" Benny continued joking, clapping his hands. "And drums!"

I sighed. "Even if you were serious, I really couldn't. I have softball, like, every day after school."

"Hmm," Benny said. "Can't you skip a day? I really want to take you to the sandlot."

"My parents would murder me." I tilted my head and stared at the old iron railroad bridge above us. Trains didn't use the bridge anymore, so now it was mostly a place for kids to go and get drunk without their parents knowing.

"Why?" Benny asked. "What's the big deal?"

I paused. What was I supposed to say? That my parents expected me to keep swimming because scouts from colleges were already watching Lindsay's progress? That my older cousins, Jenny and Ricky, were now both at the University of Arizona on full baseball and softball rides? That anything less than a softball scholarship to somewhere top-notch would be a family failure? Benny wasn't afraid to sneak out of his house at midnight while his parents were asleep. My parents, by comparison, seemed like old, traditional, controlling West Coast suburbanites. Which they were. But still.

"This is a shorter way home." Benny gestured across the street, to the large colonial house's lawn I'd noticed earlier.

We'd started up the grass, avoiding a sprinkler spraying the hydrangea bushes. As we pushed through the brambly tree branches to Benny's backyard, I stopped short. A huge, wrought iron fence gated the patio of his house.

Benny, who had walked on ahead of me, looked over his shoulder. "You okay?"

I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets. For a second, I considered asking why it was there. But a hummingbird swept past me and I lost my nerve. "I'm fine," I said.

"Do you wanna come in?" Benny asked.

"No . . . I . . . I have to go back to school," I answered. "Softball."

"Oh." Benny crinkled up his eyes. "You didn't have to walk home with me, silly."

"Yeah, but at least now I know how to get home."

"You're so cute." Benny opened the gate of the fence. I wondered what he meant by cute. Was that a California thing?

"So, well, have fun at softball," Benny said.

"Thanks for showing me around today," I nodded to him.

"Sure."

I stepped forward, and our bodies smushed together in a hug.

"Mmm," Benny said, squeezing tighter. We stepped back and grinned at each other for a second. Then Benny leaned forward and kissed me on my right cheek, just a teensy bit closer to my mouth.

Benny's mouth smelled like spearmint bubble gum. I jerked back and caught my softball bag before it slid off my shoulder. When I looked up, Benny was grinning.

"I'll see ya," Benny said. "And thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

I put my glove into t softball bag after practice. The whole afternoon had been a blur. After Benny hurried into his house, I jogged back to school-as if running would untangle the jumble of feelings inside me. As I slipped onto the field and threw my first pitch, I saw that haunting fence, the kind you keep animals out with. When Coach blew her whistle, and we practiced running bases, I smelled Benny's spearmint bubble gum and heard his fun, easy laugh. Standing at my locker, I was pretty sure I'd fixes my ponytail twice. Most of the other girls had stayed in the communal showers for longer, gossiping, but I was too spaced out to join them.

As I reached for my T-shirt and jeans, folded neatly on the shelf in my locker, Terra appeared out of nowhere. She didn't look very pleasant. "Hey Steph, I saw you talking to Benny today," she said, all friendly like.

"Yeah, so?"

She fake-smiled. "Stephanie, should seem like a lovely girl. And I would hate to see you get hurt."

I curled my toes around the rubber locker room mat and stopped breathing for a second. I looked around. No one was looking at us, meaning Terra didn't have back-up with her. "Why would I get hurt?" I asked through my teeth.

"Because if you start anything with Benny, I'm going to flatten you like road-kill." She said, still smiling.

Was she for real?

I stared at her and tried to think about why she would say this.

Me and Benny were out in the open, but she wasn't around when he kissed me a little.

Wait . . . Did she like Benny? Was she jealous of me? My hands trembled. I looked at her again. Laughter from the other softball players echoed off the walls.

Terra waved to me. "Just keep that in mind," she said, before heading out of the locker room. I sighed and shook my head. Screw her, she doesn't scare me.


	9. Chapter 9

That next afternoon, I was standing in the student parking lot, lost in thought, when someone threw their hands over my eyes. I jumped, startled.

"Whoa, chill! It's just me!"

I turned and sighed with relief. It was only Benny. I had been so distracted and paranoid since that bizarre talk with Terra yesterday. I'd been about to unlock my bike from the bike rack-my step mom and my dad let me take it to school on the condition I ride carefully and call hyphen from the pay phone when I got there-and grab my softball bag for practice.

"Sorry," I said. "I thought...never mind."

"I missed you today." Benny smiled.

"Me too." I smiled back. I'd been trying to knock on Benny's window this morning to offer to walk with him to school, but Benny's mom said he was busy. "So, how are you?"

"Well, I could be better," Today, Benny had secured his baseball cap over his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" I tilted my head.

Benny pursed his lips together and slid one of his feet out of his All-Star sneakers. His socks were ripped and dirty, unlike mine. "I'd be better if you came somewhere with me. Right now."

"But I have softball," I said, hearing Eeyore in my voice again.

Benny took my hand and swung it. "What if I told you that we here we're going sort of involves baseball?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have to trust me."

Right now, Phillips and all the other boys swerve probably changing into their baseball practice gear, slapping one another's butts with wet towels. My softball Coach, Laura, was writing practice sets on the big marker board and carrying out appropriate bats, bases, and softballs. And the girls on my team were complaining because they all had their periods at the same time and couldn't run the laps. Did I dare miss the second day of practice?

i squeezed my plastic baseball keychain. "I suppose I could tell Lindsay I had to tutor somebody in Fench," I murmured. I knew Lindsay wouldn't buy that, but she probably wouldn't snitch on me either.

Triple-checking the parking lot to see if anyone was watching, I smiled and I unlocked my bike chain as Benny did the same to his.

"All right. Let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

"My friends and I checked out this spot last summer," Benny said as we pulled into the gravel parking lot.

We stepped off our bikes and stretched. "I never knew about this place." We were at the Matelien lot, which was about five blocks away from school and bordered a deep creek.

As I followed Benny up to the sandlot, Benny grabbed my arm. "Oh! I forgot to tell you. My mom said your mom, er _step_-mom, stopped over yesterday while we were in school. She brought over brownies."

"Really?" I responded, confused. I wondered why Kasey, my step-mom, hadn't mentioned anything to me at dinner.

"The brownies looked _delicious. _They were gone by last night!"

I noticed he didn's say _tasted _delicious. We came to the 'sandlot.' A canopy of green fence sheltered left field. The air had that fresh, stadium smell and it felt twenty degrees cooler.

"Cool, right?" Benny took my hand and led me down to the pitcher's mound. He handed me a baseball. "Let's see how good you are," he smirked.

Then he jogged over to what looked like home plate and picked up a wooden bat. "C'mon, pitch it!" he called.

I glanced at him. I _really _hated pitching in front of boys. I slowly stood from the wind-up, how guys pitch. I then threw it, sending it flying.

Benny hit it. The baseball flew to right field. We did this for a while until we both got tired and headed over to the dugout.

Benny and I sat down on the bench. "It's like one hundred degrees out there," Benny said.

"Yeah."

"Usually DeNunez, one of my friends, pitches," Benny said. "His heater isn't as fast as yours, though. I like how you don't even hesitate."

I leaned back on the bench and smiled. I couldn't help it: I gobbled up Benny's compliments like cheesecake.

Benny pulled the brim of my baseball cap over my eyes. I laughed and hit him playfully. "I think you should play on our sandlot team," Benny said.

I pulled the brim of my cap back up. "Really? Why?"

"Yeah. You're an amazing pitcher. And, besides, DeNunez can play a mean left field and he'd like a break from pitching."

"Huh," I answered, sifting my fingers through my tangly hair. Then something occured to me. I turned to Benny. "Did you, um, ever date Terra Hillridge?"

Benny frowned. "What, Terra Hillridge? No . . . isn't she, like, kind of a bitch?"

"Right." I didn't really think Benny could get mixed up with a girl like Terra, but things would have been so much simpler if Terra hadn't seen Benny and me hanging out around school.

"What did she say to you?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. It was nothing." I cleared my throat. "You know, I think that Phiilips kid likes me."

_Whoa. _I wouldn't have been more surprised if a bluebird had just flown out of my mouth.

"Really?" Benny said.

I blinked dust out of my eyes. "I don't know. Maybe."

Benny stretched his arms over his head, and I caught sight of scars on his upper arms. I looked away. "Well, that guy is fucking trouble,"

I smiled. "Huh?"

"Trust me, you don't want him to like you," Benny said. "He's kind of a complete ego-maniac. Phillips is just a plain-spoken, skirt-chasing, know-nothing, cocky little son of a..." I turned away and shrugged. "He's just not well."

"No, I believe you," I said.

"You shouldn't date him, though," Benny said. "Know why?"

"Why?"

"That would mean we'd both be single."

"And that means what?" I asked. The sandlot was very quiet and still.

Benny moved closer to me. "And that means . . .we . . . can . . . _have fun_!" He grabbed the water bottle that was attached to his bike and splashed me with it.

"Hey!" I squealed. I grabbed it out of Benny's hands, pouring the rest on him.

"Help!" Benny screamed. "Not water! I'll melt!"

I laughed maniacally. Benny managed to knock the water bottle from my hands and pounced on my shoulders from behind. Benny's hands drifted up my sides, then down to my stomach, where he tickled me. I squealed. I finally pushed Benny out of the dugout.

"Not back out into the heat!" Benny fake-complained. Beams of sunlight pierced from beyond the dugout, making a halo around the top of Benny's baseball cap.

"You have to come out here," Benny said. He held out his hand.

I stood next to him, squinting from the sun. The sounds of my breathing echoed through my ears. We looked at each other and grinned.

I bit my lip. This was such a perfect friend moment, it made me feel kind of melancholy and nostalgic. Benny looked sad for a moment.

My eyes turned down in concern. "What's wrong?"

Benny took a deep breath. "Well . . . you know how I told you about my parents?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they aren't my real parents. They're my foster parents. My real mom and dad died when I was just a little kid. And ever since..." he stopped talking.

I shivered slightly. "Ever since?" I urged him to continue his sentence.

Benny folded his arms tightly. "They're just not who I hoped they'd be."

I moved closer to Benny and put my arm around him. "I didn't realize."

"Yeah." Benny's chin wobbled. "I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks."

A few long moments passed; Benny and I continued to hug. Then, I backed off. "I kind of lied earlier. About liking Phillips."

Benny raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I . . . I think I like someone else," I said quietly. "It's weird. I think he's cute, but when I get alone with him, I don't want to be with him. You know?" I smiled crookedly.

Benny ran his fingers through his hair, and he looked thoughtful. His gaze felt too close all of a sudden. "I . . . ," he started. No, he _didn't _know.

The screeching of bike tires sounded from the parking lot. I flinched. Kasey would hate that I came to this sandlot - you never know what kind of kidnappers or murderers hid in places like this. The sandlot was still for a moment, but then a flock of birds scattered wildly into the sky. I flatened myself up against the fence. Was someone watching us? Who was that laughing? The laugh sounded familiar. Then I heard heavy breathing. Goose bumps rose up on my arms and I peered over my shoulder.

It was only a group of girls. Suddenly, they burst onto the sandlot, and began jump-roping. I backed away from Benny and out of the dugout.

"Where are you going?" Benny called.

I looked at Benny, and then at the girls, who had abandoned the jump ropes and were now chasing each other in a game of tag. One of them was Leah, my only "friend" from school. Wait, she went to my school. Would she recognize me? I hurried over to the parking lot and scurried to my bike.

I turned back to Benny who had followed me. "I have to get back to school before Lindsay's done with tennis." See, Lindsay went to Larkens Middle School and she had tennis after school. So after softball, Lindsay would walk over to the high school, since the middle school and high school was right next to each other, after she was done with tennis and we'd ride our bikes home. I pulled on my bike handles. "I'm sorry to run off like this,"

"Whatever." At that, Benny walked back onto the sandlot. He began throwing a baseball up in the air and hitting it with the bat. It was hot, and he took his shirt off. Hello, abbs. The girls on the field stopped what they were doing and stared at him.

And even though I didn't want to, I couldn't help but stare too.


	11. Chapter 11

"You girls are looking lazy. I want to see better pitches!" Coach Laura yelled at us from the sidelines.

On Thursday afternoon, I practiced throwing with the other pitchers on the dirt field of Larken High's baseball field, listening to our youngish, former-Olympian coach, Laura Webster, scream at us. The field itself was twenty-five yards wide, fifty yards long, with two small soccer goals at the end. Huge lights mirrored the length of the field, so when you played night games, you could still see who you were pitching to.

I took a water break off the field and sat on the bleachers with the other girls on break and pulled my glove off my right hand. Okay, better pitches. I needed to really focus today.

Last night, after getting back from the sandlot with Benny, I'd lain on my bed for a long time, flip-flopping from feeling warm and happy about the fun me and Benny had had . . . to feeling uneasy and antsy about what Benny said. _They're not who I hoped they'd be. _Did Benny mean what I thought he meant?

Thinking about how sad Benny had been when he told me they weren't his real parents - not to mention the random barbed wire fence in his backyard - I felt nervous. After getting home last night, I'd done my homework and went to bed and again heard yelling from next door. They yelled over and over again, but I couldn't decipher what they were saying.

By dinnertime, I decided I needed to throw myself back into softball. No more skipped practices. No more slacking. From now on, I'd be the model softball girl.

Phillips jogged over to me from baseball practice and sat down on the bleachers next to me. "I missed you yesterday."

"Mmmm." I should make a new start with Phillips, too. With his freckles, piercing blue eyes, slightly stubby jaw, and beautifully chiseled baseball player's body, he was hot, right? I tried to imagine Phillips playing on the sandlot. Would he laugh or think it was immature?

"So where were you?" Phillips asked, dusting off his baseball mit.

"Tutoring for French."

"Wanna come over to my house after practice? My parent's won't be home till eight."

"I . . . I'm not sure I can." I pushed away from the bleachers and began walking toward the chain-link fence behind home plate. I stared as Mandy Olsen, an amazing home run breaker, got ready to bat.

"Why not?" Phillips got off the bleachers to join me. He threw some water from his water bottle at me playfully. Benny had done the same thing yesterday, but this time I jerked away.

Phillips stopped the attack. "What?"

"Don't."

Phillips put his hands around my waist. "No? You don't like water?" he asked in a baby voice.

I took his hands off me. "_Don't._"

He backed away. "Fine."

Sighing, I walked over to the other side of the field. I liked Phillips, I really did. Maybe I _should_ just go over to Phillip's after softball. We'd watch _The Brady Bunch_, eat pizza delivered from KinKaid's, and he'd feel underneath my unsexy sports bra. Suddenly, tears sprang into my eyes. I really didn't want to sit on Phillip's itchy basement couch, picking pepporoni spices out of my teeth and rolling my tongue around the inside of his mouth. I just _didn't_.

I wasn't the kind of girl who could fake things. But did that mean I wanted to tell him I didn't like him like that? It was hard to make up your mind about a boy when he was right across the field from you.

My sister Lindsay, who had finished practicing tennis on the court a few feet away, tapped on my shoulder. "Everything all right?" she asked. She had her backpack and tennis bag on both shoulders, ready to go.

"Yeah," I mumbled, grabbing my softball bag.

"Okay." Lindsay looked as if she wanted to say more. After my trip with Benny to the sandlot yesterday, I had skidded my bike into the parking lot just in time to see Lindsay exiting the courts. When Lindsay asked where I had been, I had told her I had to tutor for French. It seemed like Lindsay believed me, despite my sweaty hair and the funny ticky noise my bike was making - something it did when it was relaxing from a ride.

Even though we shared the similar looking faces - freckles over our noses, long eyelashes, and identical smiles - and even though we shared the same bathroom (which was hell considering the amount of her makeup that takes up half of the sink), we weren't close. Lindsay was quiet, demure, and obedient girl, and although I was all those things too, Lindsay seemed really satisfied to be that way.

Coach Laura blew her whistle. "Ten minutes extra for practice! I want to work on fielding real quick!"

The girls got in position out on the diamond, gloves on. Coach Laura knew I had to leave with Lindsay so she let me go. Phillips walked with me. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"I can't come over tonight," I said quietly, so the other boy baseball players - who were crowded around behind me and laughing at Daisy Tulkan's fake tan gone wrong - couldn't hear. "Sorry."

Phillip's mouth flattened into a straight line. "Yeah. As if _that's _a surprise." Then, as his coach blew the whistle, he left the bleachers and began jogging back over to his practice diamond. Uneasy, I waited until Lindsay finished talking with her friend from tennis, and jogged after him.

As I ran, I stared at Phillips's running legs. It was so dorky he kicked the back of his butt when he ran. He got so OCD before games, too, ironing his uniform, including his hat. Now, his feet made exaggeratedly high kicks, which kicked dust into my face. I glared at his head in front of me and pushed myself to run faster.

Even though I'd left five seconds behind him, I reached his diamond almost at the same time he did. He turned to me, pissed. Phillips stormed away from me.

"Zack!" I called his first name, the irritation in my voice showing.

He leaned against the chain-link fence by the boy's dugout and turned around. "What?"

"Why are you mad at me?"

Phillips rolled his eyes and jogged to the other side of the field.

I took off after him and ran quickly until I caught up to him. He reached the other dugout and turned to face me.

"Would you stay off my ass?" he practically yelled.

I burst out laughing. "What's your problem?"

"Maybe if you didn't try to keep following me I wouldn't _have _a problem."

I snorted. "I can't help it if I can run faster than you."

Phillips's mouth fell open. Oops.

I licked my lips. "Zack . . . "

"No." He held up his hand. "Just go run home really fast, okay?" He tossed his glove down onto the bleachers. It bounced awkwardly and landed back in the water, narrowly missing Daisy's fake-tanned shoulder.

"Zack . . . "

He glared at me, then turned and walked off the field. "Whatever."

I watched him angrily push open the boys' locker room door.

I shook my head, watching the door slowly swing back and forth. Then I remembered the thing Benny said about him yesterday.

"He's fucking trouble," I said quietly, and smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

"Are you going to the Peffercorn party later?" Lindsay asked, steering her bike into our driveway.

I ran a comb though my still-sweaty hair. "I don't know." Today at practice, me and Phillips hadn't said two words to each other, so I wasn't sure about going with him. "Are you?"

"I don't know. Mason and I might just go to Bristo's diner instead."

Of course Lindsay have a hard time deciding between a Friday night field party and Bristo's diner. I couldn't believe Lindsay had a boyfriend before I did. Well, she swore she and Mason were just friends, but I thought differently. I had forgotten eighth graders were invited to the annual Peffercorn parties.

We kicked our bike stands down and walked up the stone path to our thirty-two year old colonial-style house. It wasn't nearly as big as our house in St. Louis. The blue painted shingles were chipping a little and some of the stones in the front path had disappeared. The deck furniture looked kind of outdated.

Kasey greeted us at the front door, folding a dish towel. "Stephanie, I need to speak with you."

I glanced at Lindsay, who ducked her head and ran to her room. Uh-oh. "What's up?"

My stepmom smoothed her hands over her grey pleated slacks. "I was on the phone with Coach Laura. She said your head seems to be somewhere else, not focused on softball. And . . . you missed practice on Wednesday.

I swallowed hard. "I was tutoring some kids in French."

"That's what Lindsay told me. So I called Mrs. LaPierre."

I stared down at my pink converse. Mrs. LaPierre was the French teacher in charge of tutoring.

"Don't lie to me, Stephanie." Kasey frowned. "Where were you?"

I walked into the kitchen and slumped into a chair. My stepmom was a rational person. We could discuss this.

I fiddled with the silver loop at the top of my ear. Years ago, my older cousin, Maisy, had asked me to come to her friend's house with her where she got her belly button pierced. And we'd ended up getting matching matching piercings at the top of our ears, too. I still wore the same little silver hoop. Afterward, Maisy bought me a pair of earmuffs to hide it. I still wore those earmuffs.

"Look," I finally said. "I was just hanging out with that one boy, Benny. He's really nice. We're friends."

My stepmom looked confused. "Why didn't you just do something after practice, or on Saturday?"

"I don't see why it's such a big deal," I said. "I missed one day. I'll practice double this weekend - I promise."

My stepmom pursed her thin lips in a straight line and sat down. "But Stephanie . . . I just don't understand. When you signed up for softball this year, you made a commitment. You can't go running off with friends if you're supposed to be playing softball."

"_Signed up_ for softball? Like I had a choice?"

"What's going on with you? You're using a strange tone of voice; you're lying about where you've been." Kasey shook her head. "What's with this lying? You've never lied before."

"_Kasey_ . . ." I paused, feeling very tired. I saw her expression change into something of hurt. I knew she wanted me to call her 'mom' but it just didn't feel right. She also wanted me to point out that yes, I _had _lied, plenty. Even though I'd been the good girl all up until seventh grade, I'd done all kinds of things Kasey didn't know about.

For as long as I can remember, I'd tried to be perfect, to do everything my parents asked. I'd made myself into the model daughter, inside and out.

"I just like to know what's going on with you," Kasey said.

I laid my hands on the place mat, remembering how I'd become this version of myself that wasn't _really _me. And the same way I couldn't imagine sitting on Phillip's itchy couch, feeling his slimy tongue on my neck, I also couldn't see myself spending the next three years of high school - and then the next four years of college - on a softball field for hours every day. Why couldn't I just be . . . me? Couldn't my time be better served studying or - God forbid - having some fun?

"If you want to know what's going on with me," I stated, pushing my hair out of my face. I took a deep breath. "I don't think I want to play softball anymore."

Kasey's right eye twitched. Her lips parted slightly. She had been a softball player all her life, and wanted me to be the exact clone. She spun around to face the fridge, staring at all the rooster magnets on the freezer. She didn't speak, but her shoulders shook. Finally, she turned. Her eyes were slightly red, and her face looked saggy, as if she'd aged ten years in just a few seconds. "I'm calling your father. He'll talk some sense into you."

"I've already made up my mind." As I said it, I realized I had.

"No you haven't. You don't know what's best for you."

"Kasey!" I suddenly felt hot tears fill my eyes. It was scary and sad to have my stepmom angry with me, escpecially because I knew she wasn't a bad guy. But now that I'd made the decision, I felt like I'd finally been allowed to take off a big goose down jacket in the middle of a heat wave.

Kasey's mouth trembled. "Is it because of that new friend of yours?"

I cringed and wiped my nose. "What? Who?"

Kasey sighed. "That boy who lives next door. He was the one you skipped practice to spend time with, right? What were you two doing?"

"We . . . we just went down to the sandlot," I whispered. "And talked."

Kasey looked down. "I don't have a good feeling about boys . . . like that."

_Wait. _What? I stared at my stepmom. She . . . _knew? _But how? Kasey hadn't even met Benny. Unless you could look at him and just _know?_

_"_But Benny's really nice," I managed. "I forgot to tell you, but he said the brownies were great. He said thank you."

Kasey pinched her lips together. "I went over there. I was trying to be neighborly. But this . . . this is too much. He's not a good influence for you."

"I don't-"

"Please, Stephanie," Kasey interrupted.

My words stuck in my throat.

Kasey sighed. "He's a foster care child . . . and . . . I just don't understand what you and Benny have in common, anyway. And who knows about those foster parents of his? Who knows what they could be into?"

"Wait, w_hat_?" I stared at Kasey. Benny's _foster parents_? As far as I knew, Benny's foster father was a construction manager and his foster mother worked as a boot camp trainer. What did they have to do with anything?

"I just don't trust those people," Kasey said. "I know that sounds really narrow-minded, but I don't."

My mind screeched to a halt. _His foster parents. What they could be into. Too much? _I went over everything Kasey just said. Oh. My. God.

Kasey wasn't upset because she thought Benny liked me. She was upset because she thought Benny was being _abused._


	13. Chapter 13

It was just getting dark as I pulled my bike into Phillips's driveway. He was waiting for me and got on his green ten-speed bike. "Thanks for convicing my parents that my punishment starts tomorrow."

"No prob," Phillips answered. He didn't give my a hello or anything. And he was wearing a colone that he knew I hated.

"They're kinda pissed at me."

"I heard." He kept his eyes on the road as we rode our bikes to Wendy's house.

Interesting that Phillips didn't ask why I had gotten into trouble. Maybe he already knew. I had thought I was grounded for life for denouncing the Softball Gods, but I had the feeling my parents actually wanted me to go out with Phillips. Maybe he'd talk some sense into me.

I heaved a sigh. "Sorry about practice yesterday. I'm under some stress."

Phillips finally stopped pettaling so fiercly on his bike. "It'a alright. You're just confused."

I licked my just-glossed lips. _Confused? _About what?

"I'll forgive you this time," Phillips added. He reached over and squeezed my hand.

I bristled. _This time_? And shouldn't he say he was sorry, too? He had, after all, stormed off into the locker room like a baby.

We pulled through the Peffercorn's open wrought iron gates. The property was set back from the road, so the driveway was like a half a mile long and surrounded by tall, thick oaks. Even the air smelled clean. The red brick house sat behind massive columns. It had a portico with a little horse statue on top and a gorgeous all-glass sunroom off to the side. I counted fourteen windows on the second floor, from one end to the other.

But the house didn't matter tonight. We were going to the backyard. It was a distance from the actual house. Half of it housed the Peffercorn horse farm; on the other side were a huge lawn and pond. Far enough back were the woods.

As Phillips and I parked our bikes in the grass with the others, I climbed out, hearing The Beatles blaring from a record player in the backyard. Familiar faces from Larkens climbed off their bikes. A group of immaculately made-up girls took cigarette packs out of their little chain-link quilted bags and lit up, talking to each other. I looked down at my worn grey All-Stars and touched my messy ponytail.

Phillips caught up with me and we cut through the hedges and across a secluded stretch of woods and entered the party zone. There were a lot of kids I didn't know, but that was because the Peffercorns invited all the _it _kids from the other area's schools, in addition to Larkens. There were snack table and drinks table by the bushes, and they'd set up a wooden dance floor, outdoor lights, and tents in the middle of the field. On the other side of the yard, near the woods, there was an old swing-set that seemed to have been abandoned long ago. Wendy and her sisters must have outgrown it but hadn't parted with it yet.

Terra greeted us. She wore a yellow dress with blue flowers and a matching hair scarf that was tied under her long hair and no shoes or socks. "How are you." She handed us both a coke.

"Thanks, cutie." Phillips took the clear bottle and started drinking. The amber coke messily dribbled down his chin. "Nice party."

Someone tapped on my shoulder.

I turned. It was Wendy, wearing a faded, purple mini dress and a white headband. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a French braid.

"Wow, hi," I said. I hadn't spoken to her in what seemed like forever. "How are you?"

"Awesome." Wendy smiled. We looked at each other for a few seconds. I paused, wanting to tell Wendy I was glad she'd ditched her pom poms and pink lipstick but wondered if that would set her off in some way. I took a sip of my coke and pretended to be fascinated with the clearness of the bottle.

Wendy fidgeted. "Listen, I'm glad you're here. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"You have?" I met her eyes and then looked back down.

"Well . . . yes."

"Really?" I felt my chest tighten. Why would she ever want to talk to _me? _

_"_So, promise me you won't think I'm crazy. I'm not as close to him as you are, and . . . " Wendy

"So, promise me you won't think I'm crazy. I've never really been friends with him, and . . . " Wendy cringed.

"And what?" I raised my eyebrows, waiting. Maybe Wendy just needed a loser like me to humiliate. How uncomfortable would that be?

"Well..." Wendy looked around warily. "Have you noticed anything strange about Benny?"

I jerked back, hearing Benny's name gave me butterflies in my stomach for some reason. "Benny? What do you mean?"

"Like do you think he's acting strange? Has he told you anything unusual?"

"Um . . . no . . ." I chewed on my thumbnail uncomfortably.

Wendy leaned into me. "Do you think he's acting weird?"

My eyes widened. "I . . . I don't know. Why?"

Wendy set her jaw. She looked deep in thought.

"What's this about?" I asked, my heart pounding.

"Nothing."

Then Wendy's eyes focused on something behind me. She clamped her mouth shut.

"Hey," said a gravelly voice behind me.

I turned. Benny. "Hey," I answered, nearly dropping my cup. "I-I didn't know you were coming."

"I didn't either," Benny said. "My friend Ham wanted to. He's here somewhere."

I turned to introduce Wendy, but she was gone.

"So this is who you're hanging out with?" Phillips reappeared next to us. "The boy that's turned you to the dark side?"

"Dark side?" I squeaked. "What dark side?"

"Quitting softball," Phillips answered. He turned to Benny. "You know she's quitting softball, right?"

A silent battle of glares was exchanged between Benny and Phillips. They obviously know each other.

"You _are_?" Benny turned to me and grinned excitedly. He knew this meant I could play on the sandlot team.

I shot Phillips a look. "Benny didn't have anything to do with that. And we don't have to talk about it now."

Phillips took another big sip of coke. "Why not? Isn't it your big news?"

"I don't know . . ."

"Whatever." He clapped his heavy hand on my shoulder a little roughly. "I'm going to get another coke. You want another?"

I nodded, even though too much soda made my head ache big time. As he walked away, I noticed his saggy jeans. Yuck.

Benny took my hand and squeezed. "How does it feel?"

I stared at our entwined hands, blushed, but kept holding on. "Good." Or scary. Or, at some moments, like a bad movie. "Confusing, but good."

I gazed at Benny. His hair was a little messy, and he wore a simple black sleeveless shirt and blue jeans. He looked cute and fun - way more fun than Phillips in his saggy-butt jeans.

"Follow," I said, and walked with him toward the woods.


	14. Chapter 14

"Check it out," Benny whispered excitedly. "I used to love swinging whenever I went to the park as a kid!"

Benny and I stared at the old-school swingset at the perimeter of Wendy's yard and the woods. As we admired it, Wendy's very giddish older sister, Jenny, and some junior from Larkens fell off the swings and skipped away.

Benny glanced at me. "Wanna swing?"

I nodded. Before we both sat down on the two swings, I quickly glanced around the party. Some kids were gathered around the drinks table and a lot of others danced to some song from the record player. Wendy and a bunch of girls were singing along to the song. Phillips was nowhere to be seen.

I sat beside Benny on my swing. The swings were so close together and small that our shoulders and thighs touched. "So, how have you been?" Benny asked, pushing hair out of my eyes.

I sighed, trying to get comfy on the cramped swing. _Confused. Upset at my nosy parents. Afraid I made the wrond decision about softball. Kinda freaked that I'm sitting so close to you._

"I'm all right," I said finally.

Benny snorted and shook his head. "I don't believe that for one second."

I paused. Benny seemed like the only one who actually understood me. "Yeah, I guess not," I said.

"Well, what's going on?"

But suddenly, I didn't want to talk about softball or Phillips or my parents. I wanted to talk about . . . something else completely. Something that had been slowly dawning on me. Maybe seeing Wendy had triggered it. Or maybe what Kasey said had brought the feeling back. I thought Benny would understand.

I took a deep breath. "So, you know that barbed wire around your back yard?"

"Y-yeah."

"Why is it there? Do you have a vicious dog or something?"

I heard Benny breathe out and nervously swallow.

"I'm just wondering," I said, rubbing my fingers between the chain on the swing. "It just looks so strange and out of place. And how come I've never met your parents?"

"You mean my foster parents?"

"Well, yeah. Are you embarrassed to be tell them I'm your friend? Did I do something?"

Benny made a small sniffling noise.

"I'm not saying you're a mean friend or anything. I just want some answers, here."

"Oh," Benny said.

I breathed in deeply and felt dizzy. We sat there a few seconds. The party sounds filtered in. Every few seconds, I heard an outbreak of laughter from someone out on the field.

"Since you've asked," Benny said quietly, "I'll tell you one thing."

He turned his forearm over to show me the white, raised scar on his wrist. "You might have seen this,"

"Yeah," I whispered, squinting in the pale, semidarkness of the location.

"It's from one of the times I cut myself. Neither of my foster parents were home so I kind of took care of it myself."

"You cut yourself on purpose?" I whispered.

"Um . . . no. I mean, it was an accident. He didn't - I didn't - mean to."

I reached over to hug Benny. Benny's body shook. He buried his head in my neck. I pressed myself into his chest. What was it like to watch yourself bleed like that, and then have to treat it on your own?

Benny raised his head and met my eyes. Then smiling a little sadly, he kissed my lips. I blinked at him, surprised.

"Sorry," he said. But I wasn't.

We hung apart, nose almost touching nose. Outside, the crickets chirped.

Then Benny reached for me. I melted into his lips. Our mouths were open and I felt Benny's soft tongue. My chest clenched up excitedly as he raked his hands through my hair, then down to my shoulders, then my back. Benny stuck his hands under my polo shirt and pressed his fingers flat against my belly. I self-consciously flinched but then relaxed. This was my first kiss. Ever.

Benny's hands traveled up my body and felt over my bra. I shut my eyes. Benny's mouth tasted delicious, like grape bubblegum. Next, Benny kissed my neck and nose. I threw my head back. Someone had drawn their initials on the top bar of the swingset.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I jumped, but it was too late - someone was standing there. Then I saw who it was. "Oh my God," I sputtered.

"Shit," Benny echoed.

Phillips held two cups of coke, one in each hand. "Well. This explains things."

"Zack . . . I . . ." I scrambled off the swing, cutting my finger a little on the chain.

"Don't get up for me," Phillips said in a horrible, mocking, angry-yet-hurt voice I had never heard before.

"No . . .," I squeaked. "You don't understand."

I climbed off the swing completely. So did Benny. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Benny glaring at Phillips.

"Don't even talk," Phillips spat. Then he turned and threw one of the cups of coke at me. It splashed warmly all over my legs, my shoes, and shorts. The bottle bounced crazily into the bushes.

"Zack!" I cried.

Phillips hesitated, then threw the other one more directly at Benny. It splashed his hair and face. Benny didn't even flinch.

"Stop it!" I gasped.

"Stay away from me," Phillips said. I heard the crackly tears in his voice. Then he turned and ran crookedly into the darkness.


	15. Chapter 15

Benny's P.O.V.

I felt so awful when Phillips threw that coke at her. I didn't mind it so much when I got hit, but she looked so upset. I saw her leave shortly after. I rode home on my bike and then parked it in the driveway. I took a deep breath, preparing myself. I was standing outside my house.

I knocked lightly and waited.

My foster mom opened the door. She looked depressed as usual. Aside from being my foster parents, they're also my aunt and uncle. My father's brother is my foster father, Uncle Ricardo. But I hardly call them 'aunt' or 'uncle' nor do I call them mom or dad. They prefer I call them 'sir' or 'ma'am.' They both speak Spanish around the house, so I'm used to it.

"Hola, Benjamin," She greeted.

"Hola,"

"Tu tío está en su oficina." (**Your uncle is in his office**.)

"Gracias," (**Thanks)**

It was nice that I knew Spanish, for right now, I didn't feel like speaking English. My uncle sometimes switched between the two languages to make it difficult for me to follow at times.

I walked into the basement where his office was. The house was dead silent. _Wonderful_.

I knocked on the door to his office and waited. The door swung open slightly and my uncle popped his head around the corner. His hard dark eyes hardened when he saw me. Shocker.

"Hola, Benjamin,"

"Hola, sir,"

I didn't bother to look him in the eyes.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed me by the shirt collar and slammed me into the wall. (**You ignorant bastard. Just because you're getting an education doesn't mean you aren't a mistake. Everyday, I regret adopting you, everyday)**

Okay, so I lied to Stephanie a little bit. They _used _to be my foster parents until they adopted me . . .five years ago.

**"**Sentir el amor, tío." (**Feeling the love, uncle)**

Curse my sarcasm. My uncle slammed his fist into my eye. My aunt let my uncle's friend, Kevin, into the office. My uncle gave Kevin a hug and patted his back as if nothing had happened to me. Kevin smiled and hugged him back. Kevin had lived in New Jersey for a while, and you could tell by his accent. "Hiya, Benny,"

I nodded absent mindedly. I knew Kevin knew what my uncle did to me. We went upstairs to wait for dinner to be ready. When it was, we gathered into the dining room. Unlce Ricardo sat at the head of the table, his usual spot. Seriously, if I sat there, my ass was going down. I sat down as far away from him as I could.

When Aunt Nadia arrived with the food, Ricardo pulled his wife aside. "Benjamin es ir sin cena esta noche. Se escapó y se fue a la fiesta de esa chica." (**Benjamin is to go without dinner tonight. He snuck out and went to that girl's party**.)

I felt my stomach growl. I hadn't eaten a thing at the party. Kevin didn't even object, and neither did Nadia. I sighed. _This was going to be a long night._


	16. Chapter 16

**(A/N: Sorry about the Spanish words in the past chapter, but I did add translations! Hope you enjoyed it.) **

Steph's P.O.V.

The next day was the last day of school. It went by quickly, and then it was summer vacation. After the final bell rang, the kids were in a hurry to leave. I noticed Benny step out of the school doors, trying to hide a limp. No one else seemed to notice.

I hurried over to him and began saying how sorry I was about Phillips the other night. Benny just looked wearily at me the whole time. I was studying him as I apologized. Benny had large bags under his eyes. Lines of worry and pain were visible on his face. Benny looked as though he was only half-listening to me. His eyes were glazed over. What scared me even more was the four inch scar on his arm. Had it gotten bigger? I noticed he was trying to cover it with his long sleeved shirt. The scar looked new.

When I finished talking, Benny was now completely tuned out.

"Benny!" I said loudly, waving my hands.

Benny looked over at me as if waking up from a nightmare. "What?"

I looked a bit worriedly at him. "Rodriguez!" I heard a voice call from behind us.

Benny's head whipped over to a small boy in large glasses. "Yeah, Squints?"

"Stop wasting time and let's get to the sandlot! School's out! Come on,"

Benny still wasn't able to hide the look of hurt on his face, not even to his sandlot friends. "Right Squints," Benny leaned close to me and kissed me softly. "Wanna come with?"

I sighed. "Sure," I said.

Benny nodded and we got on our bikes and rode to the sandlot with the other boys. I took one last look at the scar, then went onto the sandlot to play baseball with them.

**(A/N: Please review and tell me if you have any suggestions. Thanks!)**


End file.
